CHAPTER 78: ANDREW IN THE BAR

The young man blinked at Andrew with bleary eyes. "I told you... that damned Seamus killed my friend without even flinching! He even dragged me into another dream realm!"

"No one believes me. Not even David and he’s the chief!" he hiccupped, while Andrew only smiled and played along with the drunken tirade.

"Dream realm, huh? No wonder nobody believes you, not even your boss. How could someone be killed in a dream?" He laughed and waved at the bartender, who nodded and set another shot down in front of them.

"Can someone even enter a dream realm?" Andrew prodded.

"Not someone, she’s a vampire," the youth muttered before his forehead hit the table with a dull thud.

Andrew chuckled. "You’re that drunk, huh? What vampire are you babbling about, son?"

The boy’s head snapped sideways. "You want to fight me or something? Vampires exist. They’re all monsters. Like that one... Velstrath!"

Andrew froze. He hadn’t expected to hear that family name from this stranger’s mouth. It confirmed the creeping thought in his head, the Seamus he spoke of was really his son.

The bartender slid over two fresh glasses. Andrew took one and pushed the other toward the boy, who stared in confusion before downing it in a single gulp.

"Wow, wow... and you plan to fight vampires drunk like this?" Andrew shook his head with a grin, though his eyes stayed cold.

The boy slammed his empty glass onto the counter. "I don’t care. He... he’s not human anymore, I think. No human could have that kind of power."

"Hm..." Andrew sipped slowly, savoring the burn at the back of his throat.

Honestly, the kid’s rambling sounded like fever-dream nonsense. But Andrew didn’t have anyone to talk to these days. Even the half-crazed company of a drunk counted.

"What’s your name, boy?"

"I’m Dylan. New vampire hunter. Supposed to be sent on an easy mission, not all this bullshit!" His fists clenched, frustration carved deep into his face.

Andrew nodded. "Ah, the job never matches the brochure, huh? Happens all the time."

He slung an arm over Dylan’s shoulder. "Now, why don’t you tell me about this nemesis of yours. How exactly did he kill your friend?"

Dylan stiffened, staring at his empty glass as if ghosts swam in it. His brown eyes trembled; he wanted to cry but held it back.

"I... we weren’t good people," he admitted, the words catching in his throat. "We bullied, we stole, we drank and drove around town doing mischief, we slept around. But it doesn’t mean we deserved to die like that."

His voice quivered. "It all started with a nightmare — my nightmare — that killed them. Even after the Hunter Association sent us for therapy, my friends..." Tears welled and he wiped them away quickly, refusing to show weakness.

"I remember the day Connor left. He was so happy. I thought our nightmare was finally over. He even told me to date his sister and the three of us would drive around again, throwing eggs at that nerd Seamus and laughing like before."

"But he was gone the next day. Then Marcus followed." Dylan gritted his teeth; anger, disappointment, and anguish twisted his expression into something raw.

The bar was still, save for the soft music and the clink of glassware. Andrew listened, weighing whether this was the drunk’s confession or a drunken story.

"I thought becoming a vampire hunter would lead me to the culprit. But when I found him, everyone took his side just because he’s stronger and more useful than me! What about my friends’ lives, do they mean nothing?"

Dylan slammed the table, drawing stares from across the room. "I thought vampire hunters were heroes. Turns out they’re just as corrupt as everyone else. Who the hell works with their enemies?!"

The table in the far corner began murmuring. Three men, eyes sharp, were watching them openly now. Andrew caught it immediately, his gaze narrowing. The wrong kind of people had started listening.

He clapped Dylan on the shoulder and paid the bill. His voice suddenly became louder and relaxed. "You know, kid, you’re too drunk and talking nonsense! It’s just a video game, right? Don’t take it so seriously!"

He stood, hauling Dylan up with him as if it were nothing, steering him toward the door.

"What are you doing, old man? Let me go! I still want to drink!" Dylan struggled, but Andrew’s grip was iron.

"Relax, boy. I know a better bar in the next town! livelier than this graveyard." His tone stayed cheerful, but his eyes kept flicking over his shoulder.

Bootsteps followed them out. Andrew could feel it: the weight of stares on his back. He glanced back and saw the same three men from the corner, faces unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlamp.

"Tch. You really drag trouble around, don’t you?"

"Huh? What trouble? I just want to be drunk!"

They reached the parking lot, the only light a flickering lamp above Andrew’s car.

"Stop right there and let that man go!" one of the men barked.

Andrew exhaled slowly. He didn’t need another bar-blacklist tonight. But he wasn’t about to abandon the kid either, not after prying his story out of him.

He unlocked his car, shoved Dylan into the passenger seat, and slammed the door shut. Then he turned back to the men, stepping under the lamp’s circle of light.

"What do you want with the boy?"

The biggest of them stepped forward, a slab of muscle, tattoos crawling down his arms like warning signs.

"This has nothing to do with you," he said flatly.

"If that’s the case," Andrew replied, voice calm but hard, "then I’m not giving him to you."

The skinny one lifted his hands. "Look, man, we don’t want trouble with civilians. He just had the same interest as us and we wanted to talk. You only met him tonight, just hand him over."

Andrew’s eyes narrowed to slits. The three might have been dressed like ordinary men—shirts, jeans—but everything about them screamed otherwise.

"No," he said, shaking his head once. "Not a chance."

The shortest of the three muttered, "We don’t have a choice. Let’s just knock him out."

The other two nodded.

Andrew rolled up his sleeves slowly, the corner of his mouth curling in something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Alright then," he said, voice low. "Let’s go."